brief blogs

Recently, I read a novel where the hero lived at an address I was intimately familiar with: 575 Park Avenue, New York City.

In the 1950's and '60's, my grandparents lived at 555 Park Avenue, NYC. I have vivid memories of visiting their large apartment. It was on the top floor, in a beautiful gray building with a green canopy out front, complete with doorman. An elegant elevator was in the lobby with a uniformed operator. She pulled a geared lever to open and close the doors and deliver residents to their floors.

Since the address appeared in a novel, I have no idea whether 575 Park Avenue actually exists. I don't want to know, either. Google or Siri will tell me instantly. But for some reason, I want to hang onto this idea that a novel released in 2017 has a real life connection to a place I recall so clearly from childhood.